Journey Back to You
by NeverAgainEver
Summary: After college, Kurt's having a rough go at finding his footing in his career, while David's star shines brighter than ever. After finally securing their relationship, what happens when everything else falls apart? Follows Light Will Guide You Home.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter One

Kurt stared at the pile of David's tee shirts and sighed. This was what his life had become – a never-ending cycle of washing and folding and putting away. Once he was done with the tee shirts and put them in their shared bureau, he moved on to the laundry, mostly his, that needed to be hung up but didn't need to be ironed. There was a whole pile of things that needed to be ironed, which was his next chore. He sighed again. At twenty-three, Kurt had become a housewife.

Not that he didn't love the life he and David had built together, he did. But watching his fiancé's every dream come true while he was rejected again and again was a bitter pill to swallow. He was so proud of everything David had accomplished; he had been called up to the NHL right out of college and had been drafted by the New York Rangers. He'd played as an alternate for a year and had recently been informed that he'd been promoted to a starting position. Kurt was so happy for him, and yet, he'd gone on audition after audition and had been shot down every single time. Rachel was already on her way to winning a Tony, and Kurt couldn't even get cast in the chorus of a show. He'd been working at Starbucks since graduating from Julliard because unless he wanted to teach the craft to someone else, he really wasn't qualified for anything else. It was all beginning to wear on him.

"Kurt!" David called. Kurt looked at the clock – he got out of practice early. "Where are you, love?"

"Our room," Kurt called back and hung up the last of his shirts. David came barreling through the door and scooped Kurt into his arms; he spun them around, and Kurt giggled deliriously. "Someone's in a good mood," he chuckled.

David grinned brightly. "I just love you," he said. "A lot."

"I love you too, David," he said. "You have news."

David nodded, and his grin grew all the bigger – he pulled Kurt in for a quick kiss. "I got a raise."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yeah," David said, "it's part of the promotion, apparently."

"How much?"

"You can quit your job, if you want."

"That much?" Kurt wanted to feel happy about this; he wanted to be proud and smile and celebrate by covering David in kisses. But, instead, he felt like crying.

It must have shown on his face. "Kurt, what's wrong?" David let go of him and helped him over to the bed. "Here, sit down. You look sick."

Kurt choked on a sob. "I'm happy for you, David, I _am_," he said.

"But?"

"But nothing," he said and wiped at his tears. "I don't want talk about my problems, okay? Let's go celebrate."

"Kurt-"

"No," Kurt snapped. "No, I don't want to do _this_, okay? I want to celebrate my boyfriend's awesome promotion."

And just like that, David dropped it. Kurt knew the issue wasn't completely forgotten, the look in David's eye told him that, but he was grateful that it was tabled for now. "Fiancé," David said after a moment.

"What?"

"I'm your fiancé," David corrected. Kurt blushed – it wasn't a word David said out loud very often. Kurt thought it often enough, but with school and the distance, they hadn't talked about their engagement. When they moved in together two years before, Kurt thought they might get married – same sex marriage had been legalized in New York after all – but David never mentioned it. He was too focused on his burgeoning hockey career, and Kurt had let the issue fall away.

"I know you are," Kurt said. "I thought that maybe _you_ had forgotten."

David shook his head and wrapped his arms around Kurt. "Not even for a second, love," he said. He slid off the bed and down onto one knee. "As a matter of fact," he said and pulled a ring box from his pocket, "Kurt Hummel, will you continue to be my fiancé?" He opened the box and revealed the most perfect white gold band inset with a small but beautiful diamond. It wasn't flashy or like a woman's ring – it was perfectly Kurt.

Kurt smiled and felt himself close to tears again; this time for a good reason. "Yeah," he murmured and giggled as David happily slid it onto his finger. "Feels more real now."

David nodded. "I wanted to wait until I could support you to ask again." He took Kurt's hands; his thumb almost automatically rubbed over the ring on Kurt's finger. "I want you to do whatever you have to do to achieve your dreams, Kurt. Whether its singing lessons or acting lessons or whatever you think you need, I want you to do it. Focus on that, and let me worry about everything else."

Kurt chuckled, but it came out sort of like a sob. "I didn't think you noticed-"

"How unhappy you've been?" He got off his knees and sat beside Kurt again. "Hummel, you're not my wife, okay? I mean, I appreciate how clean you keep this house and that you never ask me to do laundry; but you don't have to do all of this. I'm capable to doing chores, and you _need_ to do something besides being here, being at work, and shuffling around to those mass audition things."

Kurt couldn't believe how observant David was; it shouldn't surprise him after so long, but David constantly shocked him. "I don't know how to make myself what they want," Kurt murmured. "I'm not leading man material."

"Bullshit," David chided. "You're fantastic, love. You sing like an angel."

"But I don't want have to wear drag and play a girl to get a part," Kurt argued. "I know I'm effeminate, David, and I accept it; but I wish I knew how to act the way you do."

"The way I do?"

Kurt blushed. "Manly."

David stared at him for a moment. "You do realize that you _are_ manly, right?"

Kurt snorted. "In what way?"

"In every way." David rolled his eyes. "Kurt, just because you aren't conventional doesn't mean you aren't manly."

Kurt sighed sadly. "So you don't think it matters that I love fashion and cuddling and having your cock inside me? Those things don't make me girly?"

"If you're girly for that, then so am I," David said in his most logical voice. Kurt usually hated that voice, but he found himself hoping that David made some really good point and pulled him out of this moronic episode of self-doubt. "Kurt, I _love_ cuddling with you, and if you haven't realized it, you're not the only one who likes having dick up your ass." Kurt watched David flush, and he chuckled quietly. Five years after taking each other's "virginities," David was still embarrassed about how much he enjoyed it when Kurt took the reins. They didn't trade off regularly, but Kurt always knew when David wanted to be fucked. "I may not enjoy fashion the same way you do," he carried on, "but I appreciate your nice clothes. I think you look amazing in them. Does that make me any less manly?"

"Of course not," Kurt answered automatically and winced. "I've been an idiot."

David chuckled. "Maybe a little."

Kurt sighed and rested his head on David's shoulder. "We should celebrate your promotion."

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "And we can do anything I want?" Kurt nodded and smiled, though he could feel how tight it was; he knew it didn't fool David for a moment. "Let's get food from that Thai place and look through the pay-per-view."

"You want to stay in?" Kurt asked, surprised. David wasn't a shut-in by any means, especially when there was something to celebrate.

"If you don't mind."

Kurt grinned; he knew David was doing this for him. "I think that sounds great."

David's POV

They spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, eating Thai food out of the take-out containers and watching whatever sappy romance Kurt wanted. Barely any conversation passed between them – Dave knew Kurt was going over their previous conversation in that obsessive way of his. It wasn't until later, after Dave had made love to him twice and they were both exhausted, that Kurt brought it up again. "I think I need to leave New York," Kurt said, not moving his head from where it was rested on Dave's chest.

Dave had a moment of panic, but he forced himself to relax. After years of being with Kurt, he knew not to freak out before he got Kurt's full thought. "Oh?" he breathed out, encouraging his fiancé to continue.

"Not forever," Kurt said. "I just think I need to go see my dad, talk to Mr. Schuester. Get some perspective, you know?"

Dave nodded, though he couldn't say honestly he was particularly thrilled. "How long will you be gone?"

Kurt shrugged. "A week," he said. "Maybe a month, I don't really know." He propped his chin on Dave's chest so that he could look into his eyes. "Are you mad?"

Dave shook his head. "I told you to do whatever you need to." He cupped Kurt's cheek. "I just wish I could go with you."

"I'm kind of glad you can't," Kurt admitted sheepishly. "I need to figure this out on my own."

"You are coming back to me, right?" Dave asked. He tried to keep the desperation from his voice but couldn't quite accomplish it.

Kurt smiled that beautiful smile that still made Dave go all weak-kneed. "I will always come back, David." He pressed a kiss to Dave's chest, above his heart. "I lived without you before, and I don't plan to do it again."

Dave sighed, relieved. "When will you go?"

"In a couple days; I have to quit my job and pack and say goodbye." He grinned impishly, and Dave felt himself stir, despite how sated he felt. Kurt slid up and kissed Dave, and he could feel the shaking excitement in the way Kurt's lips plundered his own. Dave slid his fingers into Kurt's already mussed hair, holding him close as their lips and tongues danced together heatedly. Dave rolled them over so that he was leaning over his slim fiancé. "David," Kurt whined in that way that made Dave shiver.

"I can't fuck you again," Dave murmured, kissing across his jaw and down his throat. "You'll be too sore tomorrow."

Kurt whined softly, and Dave chuckled against his collarbone. "I _need_ you." Kurt wriggled against him, and it shocked David that they could both be so hard again. "David, please."

Dave moaned as their cocks slid against each other but still shook his head. "We can't do that, Hummel," he said. He pressed Kurt into the mattress. "Let me take care of you, 'kay?"

Kurt simply groaned. Dave slid down Kurt's body and took Kurt's dick into his mouth; he moaned softly as he felt the weight on his tongue, tasted the precome that was already seeping out. He loved doing this, making Kurt so malleable with his tongue and his hands. One of Kurt's hands clenched in their sheets, the other reached down to thread into Dave's hair. The more his fingers dug into his hair, pulling on the strands, Dave knew, the closer Kurt was to coming. The whimpering noises leaking from Kurt's lips, the slight shuddering of his hips, were slowly driving Dave crazy. He rubbed himself against their sheets, moaning softly at the friction. "_David_," Kurt cried out seconds before his body tensed beneath Dave's hands. Kurt came, though very little actually released into Dave's waiting mouth; Dave was sort of surprised Kurt had anything left after their previous, rather vigorous activities. Kurt shook and whimpered as he rode out his orgasm, and Dave knew that it was probably just a little painful for him.

He slid Kurt from his mouth and crawled back up the bed; he pecked Kurt's lips and settled beside him. He liked watching Kurt come down; liked to watch the glassiness fade from his eyes as he becomes himself again. "You doing okay there?" he asked, smiling as Kurt grinned and nodded.

"I'm just fine, _fiancé_," he said, and Dave nearly shuddered. He never did pull off the romantic proposal the way he wanted, but it didn't matter. Kurt was wearing Dave's ring, and as soon as Kurt pulled himself out of the depression he'd been working himself into for so long, they were going to get married. He wasn't going to wait another five years to make Kurt Hummel his husband; he wanted to be able to put Hummel on the back of his jersey. He knew he'd made Kurt doubt him, after the years of not really bringing it up, but he'd never stopped wanting to marry Kurt. He just wanted to be able to support him first – acting was an unpredictable career, and Kurt hadn't had any luck of it yet. "I'm scared," Kurt admitted softly after a few minutes.

"Of what?"

"Of finding out I'm really not good enough."

Dave pecked Kurt's forehead. "I'm not going to argue with you because you won't listen anyway, right?" Kurt nodded his head. "So let's talk about what you're worried about."

"Not being good enough for Broadway?"

"Yeah." Dave let Kurt shift into their favorite snuggling position – with Dave spooning Kurt. "You could go back to school, if you wanted."

"To do what?" Kurt asked. "My whole life has been about performing – I've never wanted to do anything else." He sighed and snuggled more closely into Dave's body. "That's why I want to go back to Lima for awhile, I guess. Figure out my back up plan."

"I understand, Hummel," he said soothingly. "Like I said before: do what you have to."

Kurt nodded. "Bedtime?"

Dave pecked his naked shoulder. "Bedtime." He held onto Kurt a little tighter that night; usually he turned over before sleep could take him, but he didn't let go like normal. He couldn't.

A/N: I am NOT breaking Dave and Kurt up this go-round, I promise! But the story is angsty for a reason, just a forewarning.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter Two

The next few days flew by for Kurt and David. Kurt quit his barista job, joyfully, and began packing; David fussed like a mother hen the whole time, but not once did he ask Kurt to stay. He didn't even ask why Kurt was taking so many clothes. He trusted Kurt when he'd said that he was coming back.

A lot more than Kurt trusted himself, to be perfectly honest.

He had meant it when he'd said that he'd always come back to David – it was true that he never intended to be without the hockey player again. But the closer it got to him leaving, the more excited Kurt became. Was he so disenchanted with the city he'd loved for so long? It seemed that way. On the day David took him to the airport, Kurt practically vibrated with excitement. "Call me as soon as you land," David said, and Kurt could tell he was putting on his "strong" voice. He smiled and pulled David into a hug.

"I'll call," he promised. He knew they were attracting stares, but he couldn't care less. He felt wetness against his neck – David was crying. "I love you, David," he said, rubbing his back. "I'll come home soon, I promise."

David shook his head and pulled back so that he could look at Kurt. "Don't make me any promises, okay?" Kurt could see David's eyes swimming in tears. "I love you. Stay as long as you need."

Kurt nodded. "Don't just stay in while I'm gone."

His fiancé rolled his eyes. "Like Finn would let me." He bent down and pressed a kiss to Kurt's mouth – a pop and a flash made them jump apart. "What the -?"

"Dave Karofsky?" a man holding a camera asked, smiling in a way that Kurt didn't exactly like. "From the New York Rangers?"

"Yeah?" The man took another picture of them; David let go of Kurt. "Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing?" The man went on to explain, while snapping pictures of David and Kurt's intertwined hands, that he was a freelance photographer, and he wanted to sell the pictures of David to some sports magazine or other; apparently, taking pictures of gay athletes was the new "in" thing to do. David sighed. "Look, I'm trying to see my fiancé off, could you leave us alone? Please?"

Kurt almost laughed – David, clearly, didn't understand the whole paparazzi thing. "It's fine, David, I have to head to security anyway." He leaned up and pressed another kiss to David's lips, ignoring the click of the camera. "I love you," he murmured against David's mouth.

"Love you too, Hummel." He sighed and squeezed Kurt tighter. "Now go before I change my fucking mind, all right?"

Kurt nodded and forced himself to let David go; he waved and headed towards the line for security. His heart felt light and heavy at the same time as he took off his boots and carefully placed his accessories in the security buckets. He felt like he was doing the right thing – he needed to talk to his dad and really think about what he wanted from life before he faced New York again – but his heart ached for having to leave David. They hadn't been apart for more than a weekend since they'd moved in together; Kurt wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to sleep without him.

David's POV

After leaving Kurt at security – and avoiding the weird photographer – David went out to find a cab back into the city. He could still feel the odd tear trickling down his face; his chest felt like it was filled with lead. Kurt was going to come back, he knew that, but it felt strange and wrong heading back to their apartment without him. Kurt had told him not to be a shut-in, but for the next couple of days, that's exactly what he planned to do.

His phone jingled in his pocket – it was from Kurt. _Through security; miss you already! :-* _

Dave smiled and typed back a cutesy reply and climbed into the first cab that stopped in front of him. Thirty minutes later – he _really_ hated New York traffic – Dave crawled back out of the cab and waved to the elderly doorman of their building. "Hello, Mr. Karofsky."

Dave smiled. "It'll be Mr. Hummel soon, John," he said, "as soon as Kurt gets back from Ohio."

"That's wonderful," the man said with genuine warmth in his voice. "When's your young swain due back?"

His heart broke a little bit, but he kept his smile on his lips. "Soon," he said. "I'll see you later, John." He hurried passed the doorman and into the cool interior of their apartment building. He wanted to curl up in their bed and just sleep. Or cry. Or just breathe in the smell of Kurt's fancy shampoo that was on his pillow. He sighed as he got into the elevator and pushed the number nineteen button; he felt like he was overreacting, like he was being too sensitive, but tears sprung to his eyes the second he walked into their apartment. "You're being ridiculous, Dave," he muttered to himself as he collapsed onto their bed. "He's coming back."

He _is_.

Kurt's POV

The first few days he was in Lima, Kurt visited with his parents and went shopping with Quinn, who had become a fairly prominent real estate agent in the area. He talked to David a lot on Skype – his fiancé put on a good show of being okay, but Kurt could see through his "brave face." When the first week of his visit ended, Carole sat him down "to chat."

"Why are you really here, Kurt?" she asked as they nibbled on homemade fruit salad. "You said you missed your dad and I – and we missed you too, honey. But –"

"But you're worried," Kurt supplied, and she nodded. He sighed. "I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted. "Ever since I was little, all I wanted was to be a star on Broadway. I never thought, with all my talent, I wouldn't be able to." He played with a grape, not quite looking at his stepmother. "What does one do when their dreams really are unattainable?"

"Oh, honey," Carole sighed and put a hand on his arm. "Do you _really_ think you're cut out for Broadway?"

He shrugged. "I can't keep waiting and working at Starbucks." And it wasn't as if Kurt hadn't tried; there was only so many times he could be rejected before his self-esteem began taking a dive. "I don't think I'd survive it if I just continued to fail."

Carole nodded. "So you find a new dream."

"Which is why I'm here," he said. "I need time to think and to reevaluate."

"And David?"

Kurt smiled. "He's the one aspect of my life I am _absolutely_ sure about."

Carole let out a relieved sigh. "Oh good."

He couldn't help but giggle. "I fully plan to make that a man a Hummel," he said. "As soon as I can, actually." Carole practically cooed with happiness, and they began making tentative wedding plans – David had to be involved before anything concrete could be decided. Contrary to popular belief, Kurt had no desire for a huge, ostentatious wedding with none of his groom's input; he wanted something simple and elegant, and something they both wanted. "I think I'm going to see Mr. Schue tomorrow," he said. "I think it could be good for me."

Carole smiled, and they got up to start dinner; it felt good to do this with her again. Carole liked to put on the radio and sing in her horribly tone-deaf voice and dance; she liked to laugh, and Kurt was in desperate need of some laughter. Chicken baking, Kurt excused himself to go call David.

He picked up on the second ring. "Kurt?"

He smiled just hearing David's voice. "Hi, sweetheart," he said, using one of their little-used pet names. It wasn't a normal occurrence between them, especially Kurt using one; he just got the feeling that it made David feel special whenever he did. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," David said, and Kurt could almost see the man shrug. "I just going home not too long ago, practice really whipped my ass."

"Rough day?"

David laughed humorlessly. "Rough pre-season," he corrected. "Not only am I the new guy, but I'm the youngest guy on the team. Coach is really pushing me to get in top shape before the season starts."

"Be careful, please," Kurt said – he'd said the same over and over for years.

David sighed just the way he always did. "I'll try, Hummel. How are you?"

"I'm good," Kurt answered honestly. "Going to see Mr. Schue tomorrow."

David laughed. "I'm pretty sure he told you to call him Will the last time we visited him."

"It's weird," Kurt complained good-naturedly. "He used to be my teacher."

"And now he's your friend," David pointed out. "You email him more than Mercedes."

It was true, Mr. Schuester had become something of a long-distance best friend. They exchanged emails pretty regularly, at least twice a week, and he asked Kurt for suggestions for glee club assignments all the time. It felt like they were equals, but Kurt still had a hard time wrapping his head around calling the man 'Will.' His heart throbbed a little in his chest; David knew him so well, knew his friends and his schedule, and he was suddenly so homesick. "I miss you," he murmured into the phone. "I miss touching you." After a week of not having sex, Kurt was wound kind of tight; it was the longest either of them had gone without since they'd moved in together.

David groaned lowly into the phone. "Kurt, you have _no idea_ –"

"I do, David," Kurt said, smirking just a little. He could feel himself stir a little as he pictured sitting on their couch, maybe hard, maybe already touching himself. He lay back on his childhood bed and dragged his hand down his clothed chest. "I miss your mouth," he said softly, "And your hands."

He heard his fiancé grunt softly. "Where?" he asked, voice thick and deep.

Kurt shivered as he pulled his shirt from his jeans and stuck his hand beneath it. "My chest first," he said. "Love when you start at my collarbone and kiss all the way down." His dick was getting pretty interested in their conversation.

"You always taste_ so_ good," David muttered. "Where else do you want me to touch you?"

"You know," Kurt teased gently, cupping himself through his jeans.

"Tell me," he begged.

Kurt moaned gently and squeezed himself gently. "Why don't _you_ tell _me_?" he suggested breathlessly. "Where would you touch me?" His fingers toyed with the button of his jeans. "_David_," he whined softly, "please."

"Your cock," David breathed out. "I want your cock."

"How?" Kurt popped the button and drew down the zip. "How do you want my cock, David?" he practically purred into the phone.

"In my mouth first," David said. "Then inside me."

Kurt groaned aloud – it was insanely hot for David to say the words out loud. He almost never did; Kurt had gotten so good at reading his body language, it wasn't necessary. Kurt reached into his jeans, hissing slightly as he brushed against his rock hard dick –

"Kurt! Dinner!"

"Shit," he swore.

"What? Did you-?"

"I wish," Kurt muttered darkly. "Dinner's ready."

David let out a little, tense laugh. "Go on," he said. "I'm supposed to be meeting Finn in an hour anyway." Kurt agreed, and they traded 'I love you's' and 'I miss you's.' "Oh, and Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to push you but come home soon," he said softly and urgently. "_Please_."

"I'll try," he said. "I'll _really_ try." They hung up, and thankfully, Kurt's problem was slowly going away. He zipped his jeans and did up the button before sitting up and sliding off his bed. With a little sigh of regret, he went back downstairs to face dinner with his parents.

Dave's POV

Dave leaned back against the couch, breathing harshly and trying to calm himself down. He had been embarrassingly close when Kurt had been called away, and he just didn't feel like finishing without him. It was stupid – it was going to mean a lot of blue balls if Kurt didn't come back soon – but it was true nonetheless. His phone buzzed in his hand. _Rdy? – FH _

He rolled his eyes. Now that he had pulled himself out of his self-induced hibernation for the first few days that Kurt was gone, Finn barely left him alone. He typed back an affirmative and told him that he'd meet him downstairs in five. He tucked himself back into his jeans and ran into the bathroom to drag a brush through his hair and spray on a little Axe – he didn't waste the nice cologne Kurt liked him to wear. Looking in the mirror, he shrugged and deemed himself acceptable. It wasn't like he was going out on a date. Locking up the apartment, he went down and met Finn in the lobby. "Dude, you look like shit," his soon to be brother-in-law said.

"Yeah, and your superior good looks just get me all atwitter, asshole," he bit back. "Where are we going?"

"To drink and not think about our relationships," Finn said, smiling.

"Rachel acting crazy?"

Finn laughed. "Have you met my girl?"

They went to the closest bar and parked themselves on a couple of barstools. They talked about work, about Lima and high school a bit, video games they wanted to play eventually, but conversation eventually went to Kurt and Rachel – what else did they have to talk about, really? "Rachel won't marry me until she wins her first Tony," Finn admitted, voice slurring a little. "I can't talk her into making it any sooner."

Dave chuckled. "She just wants to make sure you're not gonna cut and run when she gets super crazy."

"She should _know_ that already," Finn argued. "I followed her here for Christ's sake!"

He blinked – he didn't realize Finn was actually upset about Rachel's reluctance to get married yet. She'd been wearing the ring Finn had given her for years. It was like the engagement that never ended; it was a joke at home. "She loves you," he assured him, suddenly feeling awkward, and the third beer that sat before him really wasn't helping anything. "She's gonna marry you."

"Yeah," Finn spat, "on _her_ terms."

Dave laughed out loud. "Dude, she's the _bride_," he said. "She gets to decide everything."

"So who gets to decide when it comes to you and Kurt?" Finn asked. "There isn't a bride."

He laughed again, harder than before. "You know Kurt and Carole are gonna have the whole thing planned out before he gets back."

"You're probably right." Finn grinned sloppily. "I do love her, ya know. _So_ much." He sighed. "She's so funny and smart and can sing like a fucking angel. And, ya know, she's got no gag reflex –"

"All right!" Dave leapt up, only stumbling a bit as the alcohol rushed to his head. "Let's get you home before you scar me forever with talk of your screwball, hetero-breeder sex."

Finn laughed drunkenly, and Dave helped him to stand and led him from the bar. They got a cab back to Finn and Rachel's, and Dave helped him up to the apartment. "I should get going," he told Rachel as he settled a sleepy, happy Finn into their bed.

Rachel smiled warmly. "Why don't you take our guest bed tonight? I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

So Dave stayed and let Rachel mother him a little – it felt nice. When he left the next afternoon, he felt better than he had since Kurt's leaving. He was just getting back home when Finn texted him. _Go look on TMZ – FH_

Dave sighed. He fucking hated TMZ; he could give a shit less about celebrity gossip. Kurt sometimes went a little over that kind of crap, and Dave might nod or whatever; but he never really cared. _Why? Someone have a nipple slip or something?_

_Just go look –FH_

Dave stomped over and booted up his laptop. He typed in the website, and his eyes went wide as the page loaded. It was a picture of him and Kurt kissing at the airport beside a picture of him and Finn stumbling into a cab from the night before. Although it had been innocent, the picture didn't look it; their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were both grinning like morons. The headline read: NEW NEW YORK RANGER PLAYER ON AND OFF THE ICE.

"Son of a _bitch_."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter Three

Kurt smirked as he read the TMZ blurb that David had called to "warn him about." He chuckled over the article's over exaggeration of why David was holding Finn so closely. "It's _not_ funny," David hissed over the phone.

Kurt laughed again. "It's a good picture of us," he said, referring to the high-resolution picture of them kissing at the airport. He quickly saved the image and turned it into the background of his desktop. "And as for the rest of it, it'll blow over. Was Finn pissed?"

David sighed in his ear. "No, and Rachel thought it was funny as hell, apparently."

Kurt giggled. "Don't take it so seriously, David, please." He heard his fiancé sigh and knew he had won. "Did you, at least, have fun with Finn last night?"

David laughed. "It was pretty good, got me out of my head for a bit, ya know?" Kurt made a noise of agreement. "But Finn's going a little crazy."

"What? Why?"

"Rachel won't marry him until she wins a Tony, and it's _really_ starting to get to him."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "She's crazy, but I don't think Finn's going anywhere."

"I don't know," David said. "I think he'll get sick of it eventually; he deserves someone who's not going to make him wait forever." Kurt suddenly felt like they weren't talking about Finn and Rachel anymore, and his stomach dropped into his knees.

"David –"

"I wasn't talking about us, love," his fiancé said quietly, soothingly. "I would wait for you forever and smile while I did it, all right?"

"All right, David," he said, though he didn't feel much better. He looked at the digital clock on his dressing table. "I have to go, sweetheart. I'm meeting Mr. Schue for lunch."

"Okay. Have fun with _Will_," he said with a laugh. "I love you, Hummel."

"Love you too, David." Kurt hung up with a little sigh; his heart felt heavy now, like it usually did after he talked to David. They survived three years apart, so why did the last week seem like an eternity? Looking at the time once more, Kurt got up and forced himself to get ready.

By noon, Kurt had pulled up to William McKinley; he cringed at the sight of the hulking building crawling with students. He parked in the visitors' parking lot and took a few deep breaths before climbing from his car. He felt like a fumbling, unsure teenager all over again as he approached the building and slipped into the main office to get a visitor's pass. Mr. Schue wasn't in his office or his classroom; Kurt smiled and headed for the choir room. It felt normal and familiar heading towards the one place in the entire school that he didn't mind visiting.

His eyes went wide when he spied through the tiny window just how many students were in the glee club - at least 25. Mr. Schue hadn't mentioned the number in any of his emails. Knocking briefly, Kurt slid into the room and effectively cut short whatever speech the choir director was in the middle of. Except for a few more laugh lines and a spattering of grey at his temples, Will Schuester looked exactly the same. He smiled when he turned and saw Kurt. "Guys," he said, "this is Kurt Hummel, a former student and very good friend of mine."

Kurt grinned. "They could probably care less who I am...Will," he said, forcing himself to use the man's first name. "Working on anything in particular?"

"We're trying to nail down a set list for Sectionals," the man explained. "I'm sorry if I'm running a little late -"

Kurt shook his head. "No, no, I remember how important this was." He looked to the students. "What's the theme this year?"

"It's open-ended," a boy on the front row said. He had a manic gleam in his big, brown eyes that reminded Kurt of Rachel. "We would like to focus on the music of Sondheim -"

A girl who could have been Quinn's twin snorted. "_You'd_ like to do Sondheim, freak, the rest of us want to do something from this century."

"There's no need to be insulting, Lydia," Mr. Schue said in a tired way that made it clear it wasn't the first time he'd ever said those words to her. "But she has a point, Maks. We need to pick something more modern."

Kurt chuckled, gaining some looks from the students; Mr. Schue raised an eyebrow at him. "This coming from the man who could be a one-man Journey cover band?" he asked and laughed again when the whole of the glee club groaned.

Mr. Schue sniffed imperiously. "Journey is timeless," he insisted.

"And Sondheim wrote _timeless_ songs," Kurt pointed out.

"Like what?" the Quinn lookalike - Lydia - asked snootily.

Kurt gave the choir director a look that asked "May I?" Mr. Schue simply nodded his head, his eyes twinkled with mirth. He turned and murmured the song title to Brad - who, creepily enough, looked exactly the same. It had been so long since he last sang. At most auditions, Kurt didn't make it far enough to sing for a director. He usually didn't have the look or the stage presence they needed, or whatever. He took a breath as the soft music began. Maks, on the front row, sighed dreamily. The rest of his audience looked hopelessly confused.

_Isn't it rich?_

_Aren't we a pair?_

_Me here, at last, on the ground,_

_You in mid-air. _

_Send in the clowns_.

Kurt grabbed onto the desperation he'd been feeling as of late and fueled it into his voice; he wanted the kids to really get it. To understand.

_Isn't it bliss?_

_Don't you approve?_

_One who keeps tearing around,_

_One who can't move._

_Where are the clowns?_

_Send in the clowns_

_Just when I'd stopped opening doors,_

_Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,_

_Making my entrance again with my usual flair,_

_Sure of my lines,_

_No one is there._

Tears gathered in his eyes; his chest hurt, but beneath that, the adrenaline that came with singing, with showmanship, sang through Kurt's veins.

_Don't you love farce?_

_My fault, my dear._

_I thought that you'd want what I want -_

_Sorry, my dear. _

_But where are the clowns?_

_Quick, send in the clowns._

He sucked in a breath and let the students really see him - Kurt Hummel, a man with dreams who was real and tangible and who truly glowed when he got to do this.

_Don't bother, they're here._

_Isn't it rich?_

_Isn't it queer?_

_Losing my timing this late _

_In my career?_

_And where are the clowns?_

_There ought to be clowns._

_Well...maybe next year_.

The music tapered off, and the room grew quiet. Kurt hoped _Send in the Clowns_ hadn't become so obscure to teenagers that they just laughed off his little performance. Then Maks began to clap, and it quickly lit a fire into his fellow glee-clubbers. Even Lydia had to applaud. "That was amazing," Maks gushed. He practically danced in his seat. He glanced back at Lydia. "Doesn't that sound better than Ke$ha or whatever you wanted to do?"

She shrugged. "It was all right." Kurt knew - because he remembered that kind of girl from his high school days - that he'd just been given a big compliment.

He looked to Mr. Schue. "Can I make a suggestion?" The man nodded. "Why don't you try doing Broadway backwards?"

"What do you mean?" This from Lydia - she cared more than she let on, Kurt realized.

"I mean, the girls sing songs originally written for male roles and vice versa." He held up his hands as quiet murmurs spread through the class. "I'm not saying go overboard and make a boy sing _I Feel Pretty_ - unless he really wants to - but you can switch it up a little bit. Tailor the songs to those who feel it the most, regardless of the gender. The judges will be impressed by the innovation and by the emotion."

"That's not a bad idea," Mr. Schue admits rather gleefully. "That's something our competition probably won't think of." A murmur of genuine excitement went through the students, and Kurt grinned as they began shouting out things they wanted to sing. "All right, guys, your assignment is to find something that speaks to you from Broadway." He dismissed the group, and they skipped out, all more than ready for lunch.

The boy, Maks, stayed behind. "Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt chuckled. "Call me Kurt."

The boy flushed. "Kurt," he said agreeably. "I just wanted to thank you for listening and for singing for us." His blush grew. "You're amazing."

Mr. Schue smirked. "Maybe Kurt will agree to come visit us again before he goes back to New York."

Maks beamed. "Will you? To hear me sing?"

Kurt nodded. "Sure. I'll come hear you sing." He watched the boy practically danced from the room. "He's totally in love with me now, isn't he?"

Mr. Schue laughed. "Oh yeah." He snorted. "Ready for lunch? I had Emma pack something for you this morning."

He nodded. "Sure." They walked down the halls – Kurt jumped just a little whenever he saw those oh-so-familiar red letterman jackets. They met the former Ms. Pillsbury in the teachers' lounge, and the trio ate from the pristine Tupperware containers Emma had sterilized this morning. Kurt didn't know why it was easier to call the woman by her first name than it was calling Mr. Schue 'Will'. Maybe he never saw her as a superior, as rude as that sounded. He had fun chatting with the happily married couple – Emma's stomach was gently rounded with their growing son. They discussed glee club, and Kurt offered more suggestions, some feasible, most not.

"I'm floundering," he finally admitted towards the end of Mr. Schue's lunch break. "Theatre isn't working – no one will give me a chance to really show them what I can do – and I'm _floundering_."

Mr. Schue gave him a sympathetic look. "I saw you sing today, Kurt. You're even better than I remembered."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't get to sing in auditions really; I'm not 'leading man' material." He sighed. "David's doing so _well_, you know? And I'm so proud of him, but I'm jealous. I'm terrified that if I don't find something to be proud of myself for, it's going to make me resent him."

Emma reached over and patted his arm – a testament to how far she'd come since Kurt's high school days. "What about acting lessons?"

He shrugged again. "I honestly don't know if I want it badly enough anymore. I want to keep singing, but I can't keep failing. I've been trying for years to find some way into the theatre business, and I'm just _tired_." Kurt grunted. "God, I sound like a child."

"You sound like a _man_ who's tired of having to fight for every little thing in his life," Mr. Schue countered. "It's not easy to let go of a dream and just start over, but sometimes, it's the most mature decision." He reached over and squeezed Kurt's shoulder.

"You don't think I'm being selfish or that I'm giving up too easily?"

"I don't think it's my opinion that matters to you," the older man said. "Do _you_ think your giving in too easily?"

Kurt thought about it for a moment before he shook his head. "No," he said. "I think my mental state and my relationship is a little more important than my pride."

Emma beamed at him. "That's very mature of you, Kurt," she said, and Kurt watched the couple exchange a look so full of love, it made his stomach ache. Emma glanced at the clock. "You need to go, sweetie," she said. "I'll walk Kurt out."

Mr. Schue nodded and stood; he pressed a kiss to Emma's fiery red hair. "For what it's worth," the choir director said, looking at Kurt, "you have one of the best vocal ranges I have ever heard. It would be a terrible if you ever stopped singing."

"Thanks, Will," Kurt said earnestly.

"You are coming back on Friday to listen to the kids sing?"

Kurt nodded. "I did promise." He waved as Mr. Schue rushed off to his next class. Kurt turned to the pretty, pregnant woman sitting beside him. "Why did it take me a trip to Lima and talking to your husband to work through that? I should have been able to work that out on my own."

Emma shrugged. "We all need a break sometimes, Kurt. There's no shame in it." They chattered some more while they cleaned up from lunch. Well, Kurt watched as Emma thoroughly scrubbed the table down. When he'd offered to help, Emma had just laughed and went about her little ritual. She'd gotten a lot better over the years, but OCD didn't just go away. After she finished scouring the table, she walked him back to the main office so that he could return his visitor's pass.

As he was heading back to his car, he heard someone calling him. He turned to see that kid, Maks, running towards him. "Kurt! Kurt, wait!" He came to a stop before him, panting slightly.

"Can I help you?" Kurt asked.

The kid blushed again, and Kurt couldn't help but chuckle a little. He was cute in a baby-kind of way; he reminded Kurt of himself in high school, willowy and pretty, but Maks's fashion sense was miles behind Kurt's. He had on jeans that almost fell off his hips and a baggy, argyle sweater. "I just wanted to thank you again," he murmured, not quite meeting Kurt's eyes. "I don't ever get any support in glee."

"I felt the same way when I was your age," Kurt assured him. "I remembered how nice it was when someone was on my side. Besides, you had a good basic idea."

Maks's red cheeks deepened; Kurt was concerned that his head was going to explode. "You're so amazing," the boy gushed.

Kurt laughed nervously. "Thank you. I should be going –"

"Sure, yeah, of course," Maks said, nodding his head almost violently. "See you Friday then."

Kurt nodded. "Friday."

_Well_, he thought as he climbed into the car and pulled out of the parking lot, _that's going to be interesting_.

Dave's POV

Dave did his best not to think about the TMZ article; it was a stupid tabloid, after all. By the time he had to go in for practice, Dave had almost forgotten about it. Of course his teammates, who enjoyed riding his ass because he was the "new guy," had printed off the article and read it out loud in the locker room. Dave tried not to react when they joked about calling to "comfort" Kurt, but his smile was stretched too tightly, his laughter too forced. The coach noticed.

"Karofsky," the man said once practice was over, "hang back." The rest of the team laughed as they filed out of the locker room. "Why don't you ask Hummel to come home already?" he asked once the last player had gone.

Dave sighed. "He's been gone a week, Coach. I can survive without him, if that's what he needs – no offense, but why is this your business?"

"Your game sucks when you're upset," the man said in a hard, no-nonsense voice. "So fix it. Ask you twink to come home, don't get photographed hanging all over other guys –"

"He's my brother-in-law," Dave argued feebly.

"Whatever. Just fix it before our first game." Dave nodded and shouldered his gear. "And Dave?" He turned to look at the coach. "Stand up for yourself, okay? Don't let the others skate all over you."

Dave smiled grimly. "Sure thing, Coach."

Over the next few days, the little click of a camera shutter followed him everywhere. He couldn't figure out why anyone would want to take pictures of him. He wasn't extraordinarily attractive, nor did he do anything remotely interesting – except being the youngest – and only gay – New York Ranger. On Friday morning, as he was leaving the gym, he ran into the same man who photographed he and Kurt at the airport. "Where's your boyfriend?" the man asked and clicked a few pictures as Dave tried to duck by him.

"Visiting relatives," he finally grunted when the question was asked six more times. "And he's my fiancé," he couldn't help but add, smiling a little. The camera caught the expression.

"When are you tying the knot?"

"If I answer your questions and let you get a few _good_ pictures, will you leave me alone?"

The man nodded, smiling in triumph. "Sure." Dave stood and let him get a few shots of him smiling, being charming. "So when is the wedding?"

"Soon," Dave said vaguely. "We haven't set an exact date."

"And the other man?"

"My soon to be brother-in-law. He's straight and engaged to Rachel Berry."

"The actress?"

Dave nodded. "The very same. I am, in no way, sleeping with him or anyone else besides my fiancé," he said. "I'm a one-man kind of guy."

The reporter chuckled. "So what's it like being a starter for the Rangers?"

Dave smiled and happily answered any of the man's sports questions, always spinning a positive answer about the team and their upcoming season – just like the scary PR lady taught him to do. By the end of the impromptu interview, he had the reporter laughing. "Try to not make me sound like a douchebag," he said at the interview's end, and the man smiled.

"You're one of the nicer celebs I've met," he said. "If I sell my interview, I'll make sure you look good."

"Thanks, man." They shook hands, and Dave started his long walk to the subway station. He hoped that he had done the right thing.

Kurt's POV

Heading up to the school on Friday afternoon, Kurt actually felt a little excited. Mr. Schue had called and gushed about the kids' rehearsals. He couldn't wait to see them in action. Once in the choir room, he settled beside Mr. Schue and watched the club give it their all.

A few kids were truly fantastic – one big, jock-type actually did sing _I Feel Pretty_ and had Kurt rolling with laughter. Lydia and another boy did a lovely rendition of _I Don't Do Sadness/Blue Wind_ from _Spring Awakening_. "Lydia looks like Quinn and sings like Rachel," Kurt murmured to Mr. Schue as the blonde and her partner sat down.

"With twice the diva attitude of Mercedes," Mr. Schue whispered back, sending Kurt into a giggle fit.

Finally, Maks stood to sing. Kurt watched as the smiles nearly dropped from the faces of the students. The boy nearly tripped as he handed Brad the sheet music, and the club sniggered cruelly. "Why do they hate him?"

"Just watch."

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, black bird,_

_How is it you sing?_

_How can you jubilate,_

_Sitting in cages,_

_Never taking wing?_

_Beckoning, beckoning,_

_Just beyond the bars._

_How can you remain,_

_Staring at the rain,_

_Maddened by the stars?_

_How is it you sing?_

_Anything?_

Kurt's mouth dropped open. The awkward boy was _fantastic_.

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, black bird,_

_How is it you sing?_

_Whence comes this melody constantly flowing?_

_Is it rejoicing or merely halloing?_

_Are you discussing or fussing?_

_Or simply dreaming?_

_Are you crowing?_

_Are you screaming?_

_Ringdove and robinet,_

_Is it for wages,_

_Singing to be sold?_

_Have you decided it's _

_Safer in cages?_

_Singing when you're told?_

This was one of Kurt's least favorite songs – _Sweeney Todd_ was great, but the Joanna character always annoyed him for whatever reason – but with Maks singing in his smooth, sweet tenor, the words took on a new meaning for Kurt. He found himself tearing up.

_My cage has many rooms,_

_Damask and dark._

_Nothing there sings,_

_Not even my lark. _

_Larks never will, you know,_

_When they're captive._

_Teach me to be more adaptive._

_Green finch and linnet bird,_

_Nightingale, blackbird,_

_Teach me how to sing._

_If I cannot fly,_

_Let me sing._

By the end of the performance, Kurt was crying. He was so good, and the whole club hated him for it. "That was marvelous, Maks, as always," Mr. Schue said and made a little, encouraging speech before sending them home for the weekend. "Does he get all the solos?" Kurt couldn't help but ask once the kids were gone.

The choir director shook his head. "He won't take a solo."

"What?"

"He knows how good he is, and he doesn't want to be the one we rely on to win; so the other kids hate him."

Kurt stared at Mr. Schue, gaping. "I can't decide whether that's idiotic or incredibly mature."

"It's both. He's stubborn and shy and reminds me a lot of you, actually."

Kurt snorted. "I'd _never_ give up a solo if I could sing like that."

"But you _can_," his former teacher said. "So why are you letting some blind, ignorant directors tell you otherwise?" Mr. Schue sighed. "There are so many theatrical avenues besides Broadway, I wish you could see that."

"I live in New York," Kurt argued. "Theatre _is_ Broadway in New York, and I'm not Broadway."

"So fight harder," Mr. Schue said. "Stop hiding – behind David, behind Lima. _Show_ them that you're a leading man."

Kurt stared at his friend, his mentor, and suddenly felt angry. "A few days ago you refused to tell me what you thought about me quitting, Will, even when I _asked_. And like you've never hid in Lima? Behind the glee club at this stupid high school? You had your shot at Broadway, and you didn't take it, Will." He sneered. "How dare you lecture me about hiding? You're a coward too."

Mr. Schue stared at him for a moment before nodding. "You're right, I did hide. I did miss my chance, but, Kurt, I like my life. I love my wife and my job; I love that I'm going to be a father. When one dream fell through – because, yes, I am a coward – I found a new one. From what I've seen and heard, you're doing nothing."

"I don't _know_ what I want," Kurt said. He was close to tears without realizing it. "I don't know if I want theatre or music, or if I like living in New York. I used to be so sure of my dreams, Will. I used to know who I was and what my goals were. Now I feel like an indecisive idiot."

"So go home – go to David – and start making lists, start figuring it out. You're worth more than Lima, Ohio, Kurt, and Dave deserves more than an absentee lover."

Kurt knew he was right. After two weeks, all he had accomplished was to drive David crazy with worry and to yell at his best friend. He deserved to feel like a child because that was how he was acting. He smiled begrudgingly at his mentor. "Thanks for shaking some sense into me."

"Any time," the choir director assured. "Now call David and tell him you pulled your head out of your ass."

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Ay, ay, captain." Kurt pulled out his phone and pressed the number one speed dial button.

"Kurt," David breathed in his ear not twenty seconds later.

"Hi," Kurt murmured happily. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm coming home."

There was a pause, then a shuddering sigh. "Oh, thank God."

A/N: So I know it's been awhile, and I apologize for that. I made this chapter longer than usual to make it up to you! I warn you now: there be angst ahead! Read and review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter Four

After a quick goodbye, Kurt left the choir room feeling better than he had all year – although, honestly, nothing had changed. He couldn't explain why he'd needed Mr. Schue to shake the sense into him, but he had. As he walked the halls of his alma matter, he ran across a scarily familiar scene. A boy, who was roughly David's size and wearing a letterman's jacket, had Maks pinned against the bank of lockers. "Hey!" he barked. "What the hell are you doing?"

The jock jumped away, his face a brilliant shade of red. "Nothing," he mumbled. "We were just talking."

"Maks?" The young singer met Kurt's eyes. "Was it just talking?" He watched as the boy glanced at the jock before nodding tentatively; Kurt sighed. "Why don't you head to class?" he suggested to the still-blushing jock. "And, Maks, you come with me."

"I have class."

"I'll have Mr. Schue sign you out," he said. "You and I need to talk." Maks nodded, and they went about securing the boy a pass. "Do you have a car?" Kurt asked as they walked out of the building some ten minutes later.

Maks shook his head. "I walk."

Kurt nodded and led Maks to his car. He stopped before he unlocked it. "Just as a disclaimer," he said, "I am not trying to kidnap you or seduce you in anyway. I am simply a concerned adult who is offering help." He grinned. "And coffee."

Maks blinked at him. "Wow. Thorough."

"You're what? Fifteen? I'm twenty-three. I'm just covering my bases, you know?"

Maks nodded. "Understood." Kurt unlocked his car, and they climbed in. He didn't need directions to the Lima Bean, though Maks insisted on telling them. As they entered the small coffee shop, Kurt breathed in that comforting smell. The place hadn't changed much over the years, except the faces behind the counter.

"What do you want?" Kurt asked his younger companion as they approached the counter.

"White mocha latte, double shot of espresso," Maks said, practically bouncing. Kurt repeated the order and added his own grande nonfat mocha and a couple of biscotti; he forked over the twelve bucks and pointed Maks towards a couple of seats by the window.

"So while we eat, tell me about your bully."

Maks's face turned bright pink. "Ty's not really a bully," he mumbled into his drink.

"So I didn't see him pinning you –" Kurt paused and took in Maks's flushed face. "He's your boyfriend," he concluded softly.

"I wish," the boy said quickly, bitterly. "Ty is straight as far as anyone else knows, and I'm just the kid he picks on."

"But when you're alone?"

Maks smiled sadly. "He told me he loves me, and I think I love him. But our whole _whatever_ is based on making out. How can you love someone who won't look at you unless no one else is around?"

"Your Ty sounds like the spitting image of my David."

Maks raised an eyebrow. "He was a closeted jock?"

Kurt nodded. "For the first two and half years of high school, he made my life a living hell." He went on to tell Maks about David's horrendous coming out and how long it took for them to finally find and keep one another.

"How did you get through it?" Maks asked, fascinated and more than a little sad. "How are you together now?"

Kurt smiled. "Because we love each other so much it hurts sometimes, and the prospect of not seeming him every day makes me want to cry." He shrugged. "After all the hurt and the stupidity, we decided that us, together, was more important than anything else."

Maks sighed. "Ty's not like David at all then. He says he loves me, but he doesn't act sweet. He won't hold me or say nice things; if we're not making out, then it's a waste of his time." Tears glistened in the younger boy's eyes. "I was trying to get him to talk to me when you came up."

"It wasn't going well."

He shook his head. "He was about to hit me. I could tell."

"Has he hit you before?"

Maks gave him a look, and Kurt understood – _of course_ Ty had hit him before, he was a bully. "He never hits too hard," he said defensively. "Just hard enough to make it convincing."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "So you've discussed and planned for him to abuse you?"

"He doesn't _abuse_ me!"

"Maks," Kurt said sadly, "what would you call it?"

The boy paused, thought about it, and Kurt watched as the recognition clicked. Maks began to cry, and although he shouldn't have, Kurt stood and yanked the boy into a brief hug. "You need to get away from him," Kurt said once he'd released him. "You can't let him use you anymore."

"But I love him." Kurt quirked an eyebrow at him, and Maks sighed. "I'm afraid he'll do something." He curled up into his seat, drawing his knees up to his chest. "If I leave him, if I'm not using him just as much as he's using me, then I'm a threat to him. I know his dirty, little secret." Maks shuddered. "Ty _never_ plans to come out – he doesn't think he has to."

Kurt snorted. "He's delusional."

"He thinks if he gives in a little then he won't have to be gay."

"It doesn't work like that," Kurt said gently. He pitied this Ty kid, even while he feared for Maks's safety. "He can't trick his own sexual orientation."

"I know that. I've been trying to get him to talk to me for months, but it just makes him angry."

"You need to talk to Mrs. Schuester." Maks's eyes went wide with fear. "I'm not telling you to out Ty, I don't believe in doing thing, but you need to get help getting out of an abusive relationship. And you need to report the bullying."

"Won't they put two-and-two together?"

"Emma might, but Figgins won't," Kurt said. "No one ever expects jock-types to be gay. Most people truly believe that all gay men fit the effeminate stereotype." He laughed sadly. "Most people knew I was gay before I even admitted it to myself."

Maks nodded. "My mom told me before I could tell her." He sighed. "I love Lima, I really do. I think it'd be a great place to raise a family, but the people are still so narrow-minded, you know? I never wanted to leave Lima forever, but I feel like I have to. It's not fair." Kurt had never thought about it that way before. He'd wanted to leave Lima ever since he was eight years old – he hated the quiet, hated the simplicity. Even though he was kind of a shut-in, he did love New York's noise and how there was always something to do and its fashion. He never felt like he _had_ to leave Lima, not in the way Maks meant; he just never pictured staying.

"If you want to stay and raise a family here when you're older, than you should do it," he said finally. "_Make_ the people here accept you."

"You didn't," Maks accused. "You ran off to New York City."

Kurt nodded. "That's right, I did, but I never wanted life here. If you want it, take it." He didn't know where this newfound confidence was coming from, but he didn't fight it either. They sat in silence while they finished up their coffee. "You want me to take you back to school or home?" Kurt asked once they were both done.

"Home, please," he said. "I need to think, ya know?" Kurt nodded, and they headed out. Listening to the directions, Kurt dropped Maks off and headed home. Before the boy could shut the door, Kurt held out his card for Maks to take.

"Call me, if you need me," he said.

"You're going back to New York," the boy argued, but Kurt insisted.

"If you need anything," he said again and pressed the card into the younger man's hands.

Kurt drove home to tell Carole and Burt that he was returning to New York. He knew Carole would be thrilled; he knew she was worried about David being alone. She wanted to get on a plane and rip the paparazzi limb-from-camera-lens when that TMZ article was published, and then, for the first time ever, she'd screamed at Kurt. How dare he leave her baby alone to face those wolves – things like that. It had taken his dad hours to calm her down, but she did bring down a plate of cookies and watery, tearful apology which Kurt eagerly had accepted.

A car he didn't recognize was pulled alongside Carole's little sedan – he parked his dad's truck, which he had been borrowing, on the street so that he didn't block anyone in. Going into the house, he expected one of Carole's friends or one of the mechanics who was just testing out a car; he wasn't expected to find Paul Karofsky sitting in his living room.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Kurt yelled, anger flaring up his spine. The Karofskys hadn't bothered to call and check on their son at all since they kicked David out. He looked at Carole and his dad and knew from their expressions that it wasn't the first time Paul had been there. "What the fuck is going on?" He watched Carole wince, knew she wanted to say something about his language, but she didn't.

Whatever was going on was serious.

"Kurt, sit down, okay? We need to talk."

David's POV

Dave broke about a dozen traffic rules driving to JFK to pick Kurt up. They'd only been separated for three weeks – Kurt had been held up for a week after he'd told Dave he was coming home – but Dave was practically shivering in anticipation. He couldn't wait to hold the man in his arms again. He barely slept the last few nights from the sheer excitement jittering in his veins. He was over an hour early, just in case the flight got in early, and he almost cried when he saw that it was delayed thirty minutes due to bad weather in Ohio.

Impatiently, he stood and waited, arms crossed over his chest and what was sure to be an extremely pissed off expression on his face. People gave him a wide berth. The second he saw Kurt coming, however, his whole demeanor changed. A smile spread across his lips, his face lit up; he barely resisted the urge to jump up and down like a five year old. He waited for Kurt to come to him, liked watching the man approach, but as soon as Kurt was close enough, he grabbed him and yanked him into his arms. He spun them around, and Kurt's clear, delighted laugh made all of the dark heaviness that had been weighing on Dave's soul just disappear.

He buried his face in Kurt's hair and just breathed him in, held him as if he'd fade away. "I missed you, Hummel," he murmured.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Kurt whispered back. "But I'm back." He pulled out of Dave's grip so that their eyes could meet. "_I'm_ back," he said, and Dave couldn't help but grin. He bent down and took those lips that had been haunting him for weeks with his own. Kurt rose up on his toes to meet him, and Dave sighed against Kurt's mouth. It had been _far_ too long. "David," Kurt murmured as their lips parted, "I need to tell you something." He stared at his fiancé, how happiness warred with some kind of darkness in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something.

Dave shook his head and hushed him. "No," he said, "'cause I can already tell I'm not going to like it. Am I right?" Kurt bit his lip, shook his head. "Was it something you did?" Kurt shook his head again. "Then it can wait until after I get you home." Kurt trembled in his arms – he didn't miss Dave's meaning. He kissed Kurt again, reacquainted himself with those so-perfect lips, and this time Kurt didn't pull away. He gave himself over to their kiss, moaned gently when Dave's tongue slipped between his lips to play with his own. A security guard politely tapped Dave on the shoulder after awhile and asked them to take it somewhere more private. He glanced down at Kurt's kiss-swollen lips and felt himself stir in his jeans. Yeah, they had to get home. He threaded his fingers through Kurt's and reached down to shoulder his duffel. "Ready to go home?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "_So_ ready." The drive back into the city was a long one. "Why did you drive again?" Kurt asked. "We could've taken a cab."

"We'd still be in traffic," Dave reminded him. "Cabs don't fly."

Kurt snorted. "No, they don't, but we could've made out in the backseat."

Dave's hands tightened on the wheel. "Damn," he breathed. "I'll have to remember that one." Kurt chuckled, and the hand that had been resting innocently on Dave's leg slid further up and inward, towards Dave's groin. "Kurt," he grunted, half-warning, half-plea.

"I thought about you all the time, David," Kurt said in that gentle, purring way that made Dave crazy. His fingers ran over the inner-thigh seam of Dave's jeans, making Dave squirm in his seat. When those roving fingers brushed over his groin, Dave let out a tight, low moan. He'd been at half-mast since their kiss at the airport, but that barely-there brush had him full and aching against the zip of his jeans.

Kurt made a happy sound. "That for me?"

Dave made an affirmative noise. "What did you think about, when you thought about me?" he asked, a glutton for punishment.

Kurt brushed against Dave's cock again. "I thought about how much I wanted you inside me," he said softly and palmed Dave more fully. "I would fuck myself with three, sometimes four, fingers, but I never felt full enough, not like when you're inside me." Dave groaned – his dick twitched beneath Kurt's hand. Kurt made another happy sound. "I also thought about how I _had_ to have you," Kurt said. "It's been so long, and I would fuck my own fist and try to imagine it was your tight, perfect ass. But it couldn't measure up." All the while Kurt spoke, he squeezed and stroked Dave, and while this usually would be enough to work him up but not push him over the edge, Dave felt like he was barely holding on.

"Kurt," he gasped and couldn't resist bucking his hips slightly, seeking more friction. He couldn't decide whether he wanted Kurt to stop or keep going.

"Come for me," Kurt pleaded. "I _need_ you to come for me. Right now." Dave could do nothing but obey; he had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road as he came. He moaned helplessly as the shivers ran up and down his spine. He heard Kurt gasp faintly, saw him shaking and pressing a hand into his groin, and realized that Kurt had come too, just from watching Dave come undone. He drove a little more recklessly now – coming had done nothing to slack the need for Kurt that coursed through him. If anything, it made it all the harder to keep from just pulling over and taking him in the backseat.

Ten minutes later, he finally parked in their assigned space and practically dragged Kurt from the car. When Kurt went for the trunk, Dave literally picked him up in a fireman's carry. "We'll get it in the morning." He heard Kurt's breathy giggle and knew he was getting off on Dave's "Neanderthal act." Kurt had admitted a few years ago that, when Dave wasn't angry and acting like an asshole, he found it incredibly hot when Dave went all caveman. Dave had used that information to his advantage ever since.

"Hey, John," Dave greeted the surprised doorman as they passed.

"Good evening Mr. Karofsky," the older man said, finally smiling. "Good to have you back, Mr. Hummel." His delighted laughter followed them to the bank of elevators.

As soon as the elevator doors closed and the platform began to rise, Dave put Kurt back on solid ground and wrapped him in his arms. "Hi," he murmured and smiled.

Kurt's grin could give a sunburn, it was so bright. "Hi." Kurt stood on his toes to press his mouth to Dave's; he sighed into the touch, and Dave couldn't help but make a noise in reply. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass," he murmured.

"Don't worry about it, love."

The elevator dinged at their floor, and the doors slid open. Kurt glanced up at him, eyebrow quirked adorably. Dave smirked and picked him up again, knowing it was what Kurt wanted, and carried him down the hall to their apartment. "Can you open the door and keep me balanced all at once?" Kurt asked in a ridiculously pleased voice.

"Sure thing, love," he said and carefully dug their key from his pocket while keeping Kurt perched on his shoulder. Once the door was unlocked, he carried Kurt into their apartment and straight into the living room and promptly tossed him on the couch. "Stay," he commanded and went back to shut and lock the door.

And, for once, Kurt followed his directions; he hadn't moved an inch. "I'm lonely down here," he said. His eyes met Dave's, and he frowned slightly when he didn't move. "_David_," he all but moaned pitifully, but Dave didn't relent. He kept standing, watching Kurt with what he knew was an infuriating smirk on his face.

Kurt's POV

Kurt stared at David's smirk and thought, _two can play this game_. He reached down and popped the button on his jeans and pulled down the zip slowly, teasingly. David loved to watch Kurt touch himself, but he had almost no patience to watch it and not participate. Kurt wrapped a hand around himself and ignored the drying mess from the car earlier. Locking eyes with David, he pumped his cock and moaned softly as it hardened steadily. Just as he expected, David lasted all of thirty seconds before he was kneeling over Kurt; he slapped Kurt's hand away from his cock. "No more of that," he said and pulled Kurt up. "Let's go take a shower, all right? The insides of my boxers are feeling kind of gross."

Kurt tried to keep the disappointment off his face, but he had to admit that a shower did sound pretty good. He took the hand David offered him and giggled when David pulled him off the couch. His giggle turned into a shriek of laughter as David chased him into their tiny bathroom. It felt good, to laugh and be silly like this. Their relationship hadn't been silly and carefree in so long. "I love you," he said as David turned on the shower and set about ridding Kurt of his clothes.

David pulled Kurt's shirt over his head; he bent down and captured Kurt's lips. "I love you too, Hummel." He smirked. "Now drop the underwear and get your cute, little ass in the shower." Kurt laughed again and shimmied out of his boxers. Instead of getting in the shower right away, however, he stood and watched as David shed his own clothes. He practically drooled as David's broad shoulders and hard stomach came into view; he wasn't ripped and defined, but he was solid and _manly_ and the very sight of his body could make Kurt hard and wanting. And then, of course, David slid off his jeans and boxers and revealed his oh-so-perfect cock. He was long and thick, and it made Kurt practically _melt_ for it. "Kurt?"

Kurt blushed and realized that he'd been staring. "Yeah?"

"You've got some drool on your chin, love," he said in that cocky voice that Kurt loved. David had been so unsure of himself for so long and now he was confident and a little full of himself. He _knew_ how good he looked, and he knew people's eyes followed him everywhere.

"Shut up," Kurt sniped and climbed into shower, under the steamy stream. Seconds later, David followed him in and wrapped his arms around Kurt, pressing his chest against Kurt's back. He leaned his head back so that it rested on David's solid chest. "I've missed this."

"Shower cuddles?"

Kurt nodded. "And having you wash my hair," he said and turned around. He smiled up at David, hopeful, and his fiancé chuckled. David reached for Kurt's shampoo and poured a bit into his hand and then spread it slowly, gently into Kurt's hair. His eyes sank shut as David's fingers massaged his scalp and worked the shampoo into lather; Kurt practically purred, much to David's amusement, as David tipped his head back and rinsed out the shampoo.

"I love you like this," David said in a deep, growly voice. "You're relaxed," he said and dipped his head to kiss Kurt's lips, his chin, his throat. "And you aren't at all put together. You're just Kurt." He kissed his way back up Kurt's throat, his chin, to get to his lips again. "My Kurt," he murmured against his lips. Kurt slung his arms around David's neck and fell into the feeling of David's lips on his own.

David turned and pushed Kurt against the slick wall; his knee slid between Kurt's legs as his tongue parted Kurt's lips. He moaned under the heartbreakingly gentle assault – he was, all at once, overwhelmed by the feelings and frustrated at the slow, leisurely pace. When David's lips moved across his cheek and down to his throat once more, now nipping at the sensitive flesh, Kurt moaned louder. David grabbed behind Kurt's knee and hitched his leg up and around David's thigh, bringing their lower bodies into contact.

Kurt whimpered at the feel of David, full and thick, against him. His whimper turned into a loud cry as David bucked his hips forward, sliding their cocks together. "_David_." He couldn't wait anymore – he _had_ to have David. He cried out mournfully as David let him go.

"Let's finish up here," David said. "I want you on our bed." Kurt nodded and, for the first time ever, skipped over his extensive showering routine. He didn't re-shampoo like normal and didn't wait the five minutes before washing out the conditioner. "Someone's eager," David teased as he leisurely rinsed off the subtle smelling soap Kurt had bought him. Kurt was practically dancing in the shower, waiting on David to finish.

When David reached for the conditioner – something he _never_ did – Kurt actually growled. "Are you _fucking_ serious, Karofsky?"

David quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Kurt reached around and turned the shower off. "You better be in our bedroom in thirty seconds, or I'm starting without you." He climbed out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and headed to their bedroom without looking back. Before he even could begin to dry off, David was on him, pushing him onto the bed – Kurt yelped. "We're both soaked!"

David grinned roguishly. "Who cares?" He bent his head and lapped at one of Kurt's nipples, and suddenly the soaked bed sheets slid from Kurt's mind. David's tongue gathered the water on Kurt's throat, his chest, and by the time he reached his hips, Kurt was a shivering mess. "You want me to suck you?" David asked in a husky voice. "Huh?" Kurt wanted him to, really, but he shook his head. "No?" Kurt shook his head again. "So what do you want, Hummel?"

Kurt trembled, need spiked through him. He felt on the edge of tears. "No more teasing," he panted and yanked David up so that he could kiss him. He fueled all his desperation into that kiss, using his lips and tongue and teeth to tell David how much he needed him. "No more stalling," he murmured against David's mouth. "I need you inside me _so_ badly. Please."

David's POV

Staring into Kurt's watery blue eyes, Dave knew he couldn't tease him anymore. Not when he looked so wrecked already – and so near to tears. "Okay, love," he murmured gently and pressed a kiss to Kurt's pouted, swollen lips. Shifting off of his body, David reached for the lube in the bedside drawer – he'd made sure to get a new tube before Kurt got home, he kind of used the rest of what they had before.

Kurt moved so that he lay on his back, against their pillows – he must have been really desperate to forget about how wet he still was – and Dave groaned as he watched Kurt wrap his hand around his own cock. Kurt spread his legs as Dave crawled to him; he popped the top of the lube and spread a bit on his fingers. Reaching over, he slid his fingers against Kurt's puckered opening, making Kurt gasp and wriggle back against the slight pressure. The gasps turned into soft, pleading moans as Dave pressed one finger into Kurt, not stopping until it was all the way in.

On any other day, he would go slower and draw opening Kurt up to him, but Kurt seemed to be in no mood for that. Quickly and sufficiently, Dave worked him open with one, and then two, fingers. When he brushed against Kurt's prostate, his fiancé decided he couldn't take it anymore. "Now," he all but demanded. Although he still felt too tight, Dave had stopped arguing with Kurt about this kind of thing years ago. Kurt knew it would probably hurt, but he obviously felt he could handle it. Before he could slick himself up, Kurt sat up. "Wait," he said, "I want to do something." He pushed Dave backward and crawled between his legs.

Before he could ask what he was doing, Kurt swallowed as much of Dave's cock into his mouth as he could. Dave let out a yelp and then a deep groan as he felt Kurt's throat swallowing around the tip of him. His eyes rolled back in his head as Kurt bobbed his head. A slick finger slid behind his balls and across his entrance. "Kurt," he groaned as that finger pushed inside him, quirking enough to brush his prostate. "Kurt, _shit_." He sighed in semi-relief as Kurt pulled his mouth away, and the finger was removed. Dave gulped when Kurt sat up, a wicked smile on his face. "Caught your breath?"

Kurt nodded and climbed atop Dave's thighs. Without word or warning, he slicked Dave's cock and positioned it at his entrance. They both groaned as Kurt sank down; Dave couldn't believe how impossibly tight Kurt felt. It had only been three weeks – surely he couldn't have forgotten how wonderful this was in that short amount of time? Kurt paused once his ass met Dave's hips, and they both took a collective breath. Staring up at Kurt, Dave's heart clenched in his chest - he looked like some kind of debauched angel. His eyes were hooded, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, hair plastered to his forehead. "You're beautiful," he murmured and smiled when Kurt flushed. Kurt began to move, and Dave's breath caught in his throat. He tried to keep his hips still, enjoying Kurt's rolling movements, but as Kurt squeezed around him, he couldn't keep still anymore. Raising his hips, he met Kurt thrust for thrust, grunting every time Kurt's muscles tightened around him.

Suddenly unable to stand simply watching him, Dave sat up, and Kurt moaned as the angle changed - Dave could feel himself pressed against that spongy, sensitive nerve-bundle. Kurt wound his arms around Dave's neck, keeping him close, even though it limited their movements. "Love you," Kurt gasped as he bucked in Dave's grip. "Need you above me."

Carefully, Dave moved so that he could lay Kurt back - still balls' deep inside him - and settled himself over him. He could move his hips now, steady and deep but slow. He groaned and nipped at Kurt's delicious throat and whispered sweet, nonsensical things in his ear. He loved this man, loved holding him, loved being as close to him as was physically possible. Even though he came earlier in the car, Dave could feel himself getting close; Kurt, he could tell, was nowhere near. "Kurt, let's swap."

Kurt had to shake his head a bit. "Huh?" he panted.

Dave crushed his mouth to Kurt's before slowly pulling out of him. "Fuck me," he said. Kurt understood that well enough and nodded, grinning. Dave rolled onto his stomach, and Kurt reached for the lube that was sitting, nearly forgotten, on the edge of the bed. Dave swore when Kurt pushed in two fingers, not wasting any time letting him warm up. Although, Dave couldn't say that he wasn't just as eager. He groaned as Kurt quickly scissored his fingers, opening him up enough to push in a third finger. "_God_," Dave panted when Kurt brushed over his prostate. Kurt let out a soft giggle and pressed more firmly against that sensitive spot, and Dave saw stars. "Fuck, Kurt, _now_!"

"Up," Kurt said simply as he pulled his fingers away. Dave eagerly moved to his hands and knees, while Kurt positioned himself behind him. The blunt head of Kurt's cock pressed against his entrance, and Dave sucked in a breath and tried to remember to keep calm and relax. The initial burn and stretch made him wince and tense up. "Relax, sweetheart," Kurt murmured in his oddly deep, sex voice. He rubbed at the small of Dave's back gently, sweetly. Once he was all the way in, he paused and leaned forward so that his chest was pressed against Dave's back. "You are so fucking perfect," he said against Dave's shoulder.

Dave grunted some kind of reply as the burning began to fade into a pleasant achiness. "Okay," he finally managed to say.

Kurt's POV

Kurt wrapped his arms around David's waist and let him take all of his weight - he knew David would be able to easily - and began to roll his hips forward, pressing himself into David. It wasn't very deep at this angle, and because of his unwillingness to move from where he was draped across David's back, it didn't feel very coordinated. But David began making those little gasps that meant that Kurt was, at least, brushing over that wondrous spot a little bit. He pressed little kisses against David's shoulders and neck before using one of his hands to wrap around David's cock. As what always happened when he was inside David, he felt his orgasm coming on far too early. He pumped his hand in time with the thrust in his hips, and David cried out. "Close?"

David nodded and moaned when Kurt's thumb swiped over the head of his cock. "So close, love," he mumbled, "_so_ close." Kurt groaned in relief as his hips began to lose its rhythm. "Fuck, Kurt, I'm –" David cried out as he came all over Kurt's hand.

Kurt yelped as David's muscles constricted around him, yanking his orgasm from him in a rush. Panting, he laid his cheek against David's sweaty back. "I love you," he mumbled against his skin.

David chuckled shakily. "I love you too." Kurt slipped out of David – they both shivered – and they collapsed onto the sodden bedspread. Kurt snuggled in against David and propped his chin on David's chest. David smiled and swept Kurt's bangs off his forehead. "I missed you so much, Hummel."

Kurt smiled and pressed a kiss to the skin closest to his mouth. "I missed you too."

They lay together for a long while until David said with a laugh, "You know this comforter is ruined, right?"

Kurt nodded. "And we both need another shower."

"And you still haven't delivered whatever bad news you had." Kurt felt the smile drop from his face as his memory caught up with him; he sighed. "What is it?" David cupped his cheek, which only made him feel worse. David shouldn't be the one to do the comforting, not now. "Kurt?"

Kurt bit his lip. How the hell was he supposed to deliver this kind of news? He sighed again and met David's worried eyes. "It's your dad."

David stiffened beneath him. "What about him?" he asked stiffly, as guarded as Kurt had seen him in years. He knew David had mixed emotions about the people who abandoned him – a part of him was so angry and hurt that he never wanted to even mention them again, but there was a part that wanted to know his family. For them to know him and _finally_ accept him and see how wonderful his life had become.

"David, sweetheart," Kurt said, "he's dying, and he wants to see you."

A/N: I know this took forever, and I'm sorry! But this is probably the longest single chapter I've ever written, so hopefully that makes up for it. Shit's about to go down, folks!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter Five

Kurt's POV

"David?" Kurt knocked on the bathroom door for the hundredth time since David had locked himself in. "Come on, sweetheart, talk to me." He was really scared now – it had been almost an hour now. Kurt considered calling his dad, but he was still a little mad at him and Carole.

"_Kurt, sit down, okay? We need to talk."_

_Kurt stared at his father and his stepmother, mouth agape. Shakily, he sat down on the couch, as far from Paul Karofsky as he could while still sharing the same piece of furniture. He glared at the man. "Ease down, kiddo," Burt said gently. "Paul just wanted to talk."_

_Kurt snorted in disgust. "It only took him _six_ years."_

"_I know I was wrong," the elder Karofsky said. "I've missed so much of my son's life –"_

"_He's _not_ your son," Kurt barked. "You gave up the right to call him that the night _I _rescued him after you threw him out." _

_Paul stared down at his hands. "I have terminal pancreatic cancer, Kurt," he said. "The doctors have given me less than a year." He looked back up, and Kurt saw tears glittering in his eyes, which were so like David's. His stomach clenched. "My wife left me after we got the prognosis."_

_Kurt arched an eyebrow. "So you thought you'd reach out to David? Because you don't want to die alone?"_

"_I regret what I did to my son," Paul said firmly. "I don't want to die without making things right with him."_

_Kurt didn't think it was possible – David had completely shut the door on his family, he didn't even want the Karofsky last name – but he found he didn't have the heart to tell the man as much. "So why don't you reach out to him? There's no need to get my forgiveness – I have none to give you." It was a heartless thing to say, but it was true. Kurt would never forgive Paul for abandoning David, ever. _

"_Would you take it well if your father had done what I did, and he just called you up out of the blue?" Paul countered, unfazed by Kurt's bluntness. "At best, he would laugh in my face."_

_Kurt knew he was right. "What do you want from me?"_

"_Talk to him," Paul begged. "Tell him that I _need_ to see him." _

_Kurt didn't want to agree, but when he glanced at his dad and Carole – who were holding hands and giving Kurt hopeful looks – he knew was going to say yes. Damn it. _

"Go away, Kurt," David called back, voice brittle. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

It felt as if he'd slapped Kurt in the face; but he should have expected this. When he'd told David about his father, his fiancé had gone rigid and practically ran from the room. Kurt had suspected that David was mad at him, but now he was sure of it. Tears gathered before he could stop them; he sniffled. "Okay, David."

David's POV

Dave sat on the edge of the tub, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. His hands were clenched into fists; his nails bit into his palms. He didn't want to attack Kurt; he didn't want to say something he _knew_ he wouldn't mean. Kurt had been ambushed by his parents and Dave's father. But he did agree to talk to Dave for the bastard who'd just abandoned him.

He felt betrayed on all sides, and he didn't know how to handle it. And then there was that voice in his head telling him that his father was dying on top of everything else. How the hell was he supposed to feel? He'd tried so hard not to think about either of his parents for so long, and now he was faced with his father's mortality. He didn't know what to do; he didn't want to be alone, but his anger with Kurt kept him in the bathroom, tense enough to have a heart attack.

Even as he sat on the side of the tub, guilt flared through him. He had been waiting weeks to see Kurt, and now he was pissed and locked in the bathroom because of something that wasn't Kurt's fault. He knew he'd have to get up eventually and apologize for being a jerk, but for now he would just sit and wallow. Instead, he turned the shower on – a hot shower might do him good.

After twenty minutes of standing beneath a scalding hot stream of water, Dave found he was still unwilling to leave his little haven, so he sat on the floor, towel wrapped around his waist. Two hours passed before he finally emerged. He found Kurt sitting on the couch in a pair of loose sweats, staring into space. His eyes were puffy and red from crying, and even though Dave felt a wave of guilt sweep over him, he didn't so much as smile at Kurt. He went through to their bedroom and tugged on a pair of jeans and padded back into the living room.

He sat beside Kurt, who had made himself as small as he could on the opposite end of the couch. Seeing Kurt acting so timid, so afraid, made Dave swear. "Kurt –"

"I'm so sorry, David," Kurt interrupted. "I am so, _so_ sorry. I should have told you as soon as I got off the plane. I should have just told him _no_. I should have –"

Dave slid across the couch and drew Kurt into his arms. "It's okay, Hummel," he said. "It's going to be okay." He wanted to murmur words of comfort to Kurt but found that he couldn't. Instead, he said, "I'm pissed, but I'm madder at my dad and your parents than anything else. They shouldn't have put you in this position."

Kurt sighed. "They shouldn't have, but I agreed to it." He ducked his head. "You can be mad at me, sweetheart. I understand."

Dave shook his head. "So what are we going to do about this?"

Kurt still wouldn't look at him. "If I tell you what I think, you really will be made at me."

"You think I need to call him."

"I think you need to see him," Kurt amended. "When I stopped trying to jump down his throat, I saw how bad he looked, David." He shook his head, a sad look on his face. "You don't have to forgive him, I know I wouldn't, but I think you'll regret it if you let him pass away without hearing what he has to say."

Dave chuckled humorlessly. "Carole said as much years ago." He pressed his face into Kurt's neck and breathed in the comforting smell of his fiancé. "Do you think he'd agree to fly in? I don't think going to Lima for the weekend is going to accomplish much, and I can't spare more time than that from work."

Kurt nodded. "He wasn't holding out much hope that you'd even call him – I think he'd be thrilled to come here."

Dave snorted. "Like we could sort any of this out over the phone."

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch; Dave held Kurt close as they tried to tentatively plan their next move regarding Paul. They decided that Kurt would call and ask Paul to come to New York – Dave wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth if he talked to his father on the phone.

Kurt's POV

A week later, he and David were back at JFK, waiting on Paul's flight to come in. He had sobbed over the phone when Kurt had called him; he had been overjoyed that David had agreed to see him. Kurt, in a none-too-subtle way, told him that if he heard even the slightest criticism about their life or their relationship, Kurt wouldn't hesitate to throw him out on his ass. Paul had assured him that any previous prejudice that he'd had was long gone – he had nothing left, and he knew it. He just wanted to get to know David again and try to work out their problems before his cancer got the better of him.

When Paul came into their line of sight, Kurt tensed and glanced at David. He still wasn't sure how his fiancé was going to react to seeing his father. David had been flip-flopping all week about how he felt about this arrangement. More than once, he'd slip back into an angry, sullen mood that would end with him going to the gym for hours and Kurt sitting in the living room, trying not to cry. Kurt was so sick of fighting and trying to defend himself when he really didn't feel as if he should defend himself.

"Dave," Paul wheezed as he came to a stop in front of them. If possible, he looked even worse than he did when Kurt last saw him. His skin had a yellow-tinge that Kurt knew couldn't be good.

"Paul," David greeted stiffly. "Good flight?"

Paul nodded, visibly upset that David used his given name. "A little bumpy but not bad."

They stood together, awkwardly silent, for a moment before Kurt grabbed the small duffel bag Paul had slung over his shoulder. "Come on," he said, taking charge. "You look like you need to lie down."

Paul gave Kurt a grateful look. "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt attempted to smile, though he wasn't sure if it was successful or not, and they headed out to the bank of cabs. It had taken one very long, very loud argument for David to agree to let Paul stay in their tiny guest bedroom – the room Kurt had been using as a sewing room since they'd moved in. The cab ride back to the apartment was silent and awkward. Kurt sat between David and Paul, and he felt like he could choke on the tension between the two Karofsky men.

By the time they pulled up, Kurt was ready to make a run for it; this was going to be the worst week of all of their lives, he could already tell. And he was going to be smack-dab in the middle of it all. He took Paul's duffel bag once again and led them all through the lobby to the elevator bank. "This is a nice building," Paul commented as cheerfully as he could manage.

"Very," Kurt murmured. "This is a good part of the city."

"Where are we, exactly?"

"Chelsea," David answered stiffly.

Paul nodded. "This must be pretty pricey then, right?"

Kurt watched David roll his eyes – he didn't quite understand the immediate irritation, plenty of people had asked the same question, but he supposed it was something from David's past with his family. "It's $7,600 a month, Paul." The older man whistled softly. "Yes? It's impressive, isn't it?" David snapped. "You can tell all of your buddies in Lima that even your faggot son made good."

Paul's face blanched. "David," Kurt snapped. "That's really not -"

"No, it's okay, Kurt," Paul interrupted. "I deserve that and a lot worse; Dave can say whatever he likes to me."

But the damage was already done. David's full attention was on Kurt; he almost shrank at the sight of the naked anger on his face. It was a look he'd seen all too often in the last week. "After everything that this bastard did to me, you were going to _defend _him?" David snarled. Kurt didn't try to defend himself; he was sick of it, and he suddenly felt all the more in the wrong. He had been trying to defend Paul. "What were you going to say, Kurt?" David demanded. "That my attitude isn't necessary? That I shouldn't say what he's thinking? What?"

"Dave –"

Kurt closed his eyes as Paul spoke up. "_You_ shut the fuck up, all right? I'm talking to my fiancé."

"No, you are _shouting_ at me," Kurt snapped, finally fed up. "And I'm just about sick of it."

David's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?" he growled.

"I know you're mad at me, David," Kurt said, more softly. He suddenly felt very aware of Paul's presence, his possible scrutiny. "I deserve your anger, I do, but I don't know if I can bear much more of it." Before David could say anything, Kurt turned to Paul. "Let me show you where you're staying," he offered. "You look like you could use a nap."

Paul tried to smile. "Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt glanced at David and sighed sadly. "No problem." He showed Paul to the guest bedroom and closed the door as he left the older man to settle in. Kurt gathered his courage as he headed back down the hall, towards the kitchen where he knew David would be. His fiancé sat at one of the barstools, staring out the window at the city. The money they spent was well worth the view. "Paul's going to take a nap," he said by way of announcing himself. "I'm going to start dinner."

David shrugged. "Whatever."

He sat sullenly while Kurt crept around the kitchen, quietly preparing their dinner, and he sighed every time Kurt made the slightest noise. After the fifteenth time he heard that sigh, Kurt slammed the bowl he was holding down. "I _can't_ do this for a week," he spat. "I won't." David just stared at him. "He's here because you agreed to see him, David. You don't have to be nice exactly, but you have to be civil. You can't just abuse him for a week." David continued to stare at him, saying nothing. "We can send him home tonight, if that's what you want."

"We could," David admitted, "but I don't think you'd ever look at me the same."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't really like the David I'm seeing now either."

David sighed; he sounded so defeated. "I'm just _so_ angry, Kurt –"

Kurt shrugged again. "I know, and like I said, I deserve to bear the brunt of it. I fucked up, I get it."

Dave's POV

The look on Kurt's face made Dave want to jump through the window. He looked so utterly devastated but accepting of Dave's anger. The only thing he wanted was to tell Kurt he was sorry, that everything was going to be okay, but the words stuck in his throat. "Why can't I forgive you?" Dave asked aloud. "Why can't I just stop being mad at you? I know it's not really your fault."

"I was a willing target," Kurt said softly. "You can't beat the shit out of your dad the way you want to because he's sick, and I let you say just about anything to me. You latched onto that." Kurt went back to tossing the salad he'd started. "But I've taken you punishing me for a week, David." He sniffled miserably. "You've been cruel and starting fights, and you haven't touched me since the day I came home from Lima."

Dave thought about it, and Kurt was absolutely right. Although he had held Kurt in his arms after Kurt first told him about his dad, he hadn't so much as kissed Kurt since. "I haven't been intentionally cruel."

"I know," Kurt said, "but it doesn't mean you haven't been." He was quiet for a moment before admitting, "I haven't been so afraid of you since high school, except now I'm afraid you'll just be gone when I wake up in the morning." Despite all of his anger, Dave's heart shattered – and yet, he still didn't go to physically comfort Kurt. He held back.

"You know I'll never leave you, Hummel," he said, "no matter how mad I get."

Kurt gave him a sad look. "You don't have to physically leave to be gone, David."

Anger zipped up his spine, as hot as ever. "It's been seven _days_, not seven years. Am I not allowed to have a little time to just be angry at you?"

"If you would quit turning it on and off, it'd be okay," Kurt murmured. "There are moments when I think you feel guilty and confused, and you want to reach out to me; and then the switch happens, and you can't stand me again. Stop trying to justify your damn anger and just feel it. Then, maybe, you'll get over it."

"Get over it?" Dave growled. "You _betrayed_ me, Kurt. You agreed to help the man who threw me away like I was trash, knowing that I wanted nothing to do with him ever again. If you would have told him no to begin with, I wouldn't feel like this now! I hate feeling _obligated_ to hear him out just because he's fucking dying. It's not fair, and it's your fault!" He heard the words, knew he was being an irrational prick, but he couldn't help but feel this way. Kurt didn't look surprised, and for whatever reason that pissed Dave off even more. "You know if you hadn't of left in the first place, this wouldn't have happened," he accused. "Why did you leave me anyway? The only thing you managed to accomplish is to make me fucking miserable and bring bad shit back with you." Kurt hung his head in shame, which did absolutely nothing to soothe Dave's rage. He didn't know what kind of reaction he wanted, but he wasn't getting it. "You know, you should go and get your job back at Starbucks; we both know that no matter what stupid epiphany you had in Lima is gonna matter in six months when you still haven't gotten an acting gig."

Kurt went from quietly taking Dave's outrageous accusations to total devastation – Dave knew without him saying a word that he had gone too far. "I'm gonna go," Kurt murmured. "Have fun with your dad, okay?" His words were deadpan; his eyes had gone unfocused and hazy. Kurt set down the bowl of salad and hurried from the kitchen. Dave stared at the empty spot where Kurt had been standing for a full minute before he realized what had happened. He swore aloud before jumping up from the stool and bounding off after him.

"Kurt!" he called and stopped short at their bedroom door. Kurt was packing a bag. His heart stopped in his chest. "You're leaving me?"

Kurt looked up, and Dave could see the tears swimming in his eyes; but his fiancé shook his head. "I could never leave you, David," he said in that same deadpan voice. "But I think I'm going to stay with Rachel and Finn while your dad is here because I will not let this be the end of our relationship, okay? Even if I deserve a lot of shit from you, I won't let you bully me just because you're hurting." He threw a couple more outfits into the bag and zipped it up.

"Don't go."

Kurt sniffled, and Dave watched his eyes well-up even more; but Kurt didn't look at him. "Promise me you'll stop punishing me."

Dave wanted to, but he shook his head. "I can't."

"Then I can't stay." Kurt set the suitcase on the floor and stepped over to Dave. Tentatively, so much so that it made Dave's heart ache, Kurt reached out and touched his cheek. "I love you," he said firmly, confidently. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything."

Dave leaned into that touch. "I love you too."

Kurt leaned up and pressed a dry kiss to Dave's lips. "That's the first time I've felt your lips in a week," he murmured. "And I can tell that even though you don't want me to leave, you're still pissed at me. You carry all your tension in your lips." He slid away from him. "I'll call you later, okay?" He grabbed the handle on his bag and walked away, and although Dave wanted more than anything to stop him, he didn't. He knew Kurt was right to leave when he was acting like such a jackass, not when Dave couldn't promise that he would get better.

He heard the front door close, and he was suddenly alone with Paul Karofsky.

What the hell had he done?

A/N: I am SO sorry this took so long to update! I have had some serious writer's block. I promise the next chapter won't take two months to get up!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Glee - it all belongs to Ryan Murphy and the Fox Network. I'm just playing with the characters a bit. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter Six

Kurt's POV

After dropping his suitcase off at Finn and Rachel's apartment, Kurt and Rachel headed to their favorite Thai place on Broadway. Kurt didn't really want to go out with her – he knew that she was going to make him talk about David – but he couldn't tell her no and have her leave him alone with Finn. His stepbrother had been absolutely pissed when Kurt had called, and he'd demanded to know every little detail before Rachel suggested they go eat.

"When are you going to break up with him?" Rachel asked as soon as the waiter walked away with their order.

Kurt's head snapped up from where he was studying the table in front of him. "What?"

Rachel barely blinked. "When are you going to break up with him?"

"Why would I do that?"

Rachel sighed and reached across the table to pat his hand. "Kurt, someday, after I get my Tony, you're going to be my brother-in-law, and you've been my best friend since junior year of high school. I love you."

He stared at her. This was the scary Rachel he hadn't really seen in years. "I love you too, Rachel," he said cautiously.

She smiled. "Good. Now, you know you can't stay with David. He's an abuser –"

"What?" Kurt all but shouted, drawing more than a couple of glares from the people around him. "How the _hell_ could you say that?"

Rachel gave him that sympathetic simpering look she pulled off so well in high school, as if he were being stubborn and adorably obtuse. "Kurt, sweetie, the man's made your life a living hell for –"

"For a _week_," Kurt spat at her. "We're having a fight right now, Rachel. That's it."

"This is hardly the first time David has done something like this, Kurt," Rachel argued in that calm, "logical" voice of hers. Kurt had the urge to slap her.

Kurt blinked. "And just when were these other times?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Do you not remember being thrown into lockers and having slushees thrown in your face every day? Do you not remember him threatening to kill you?"

Kurt had to laugh because if he didn't, he'd reach across the table and strangle her. Putting up with David was almost more bearable than this. He couldn't win wherever he went. "Rachel, I truly love how crazy you are, I do." He leaned across the table. "But if you are going to sit there and demean my fiancé by bringing up all the shitty things that he used to do, then I am seriously going to question our friendship." Rachel's eyes went wide. "David hasn't been that guy since the beginning of junior year, and you know it."

"But he's _punishing_ you for agreeing to help out his dad!" Rachel countered.

"So? He's mad, Rach, and he's allowed to be. He got the raw end of the deal when it came to his parents, and now his dad is dying and he doesn't know how to deal with it. He's allowed to be a jerk for awhile."

She folded her arms. "So why did you leave?"

"Because while I am okay with David being angry with me, and I agree that I deserve to bear some of that anger, I am not bulletproof. I needed a break." The arrival of their food diverted the conversation, and Kurt got Rachel talking about all of her auditions that were coming up. He nodded and made noncommittal noises when appropriate and hoped it was enough to keep her from bringing up David again.

Dave's POV

Dave had cobbled together a passable dinner by the time Paul woke up from his nap and ventured out into the apartment. "David," his father greeted gently, timidly. "Where's Kurt?"

Dave sighed. "He went to stay with his stepbrother."

Paul frowned. "I didn't mean to interrupt your lives, David."

"Yeah, well, you did," David snapped. "I've been so _pissed_ at him for helping you, and it drove him off."

Paul stared at him. "So your temper drove him off."

"Yeah, but you caused it." Even to Dave, it sounded childish. He hated this, hated that his father made him feel this way. "Look, I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here, but you should know I only agreed because I feel obligated."

"Because I'm dying."

Dave nodded. "Yeah." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "So you might want to start talking _now_, 'cause I honestly don't know how long I can stand you." He sighed again. "And I _really_ hope this is all worth it." He leveled a look at the man who'd long ago stopped being his father. "I'd really like to be able to look at my fiancé again without feeling the sickening mixture of rage and guilt."

"Kurt did me a kindness," Paul said, "after his parents and I ambushed him. He didn't seek me out, and he certainly wouldn't have agreed unless he felt just as obligated as you did."

"You're telling me something I already know, Paul. Quit boring me."

The elder Karofsky sighed sadly. "David, I know I acted abysmally." He laughed in a humorless sort of way. "That's an understatement, I know, but there aren't words for awfully I behaved." Dave nodded after a moment of quiet, jaw firmly clenched, and passed Paul a plate. They sat down at his and Kurt's tiny table. After a few moments of silent eating, Paul continued. "It was never my intention to send you to that camp, David, you should know that. Your mother –"

He paused, and Dave watched as a pained expression came over his face. "What about her?"

"She convinced me that it was in your best interest, that they'd set you right, and I was blinded enough that I agreed to it."

"I'm not broken," Dave said softly, not able to look up from his plate. He picked at the chicken he'd pan-seared, playing with it more than anything.

"I know that now," Paul said just as softly. "I knew that then, but your mother was so _insistent_ upon it. And I'm not placing blame because I let her talk me into it; I let her make that ultimatum." He let out another cheerless laugh. "In hindsight, I am happy that you chose to leave us." He shrugged. "Even if you stayed, even if we tried to get along with you in the house, we would have made you miserable." He glanced up at Dave. "And you know it, David. We would have driven you to madness, and you probably never would have come to know Kurt quite like you do. He's quite the man, you know."

Dave had to smile about that one. "He really is. He's the most amazing man I know."

"Then you shouldn't be angry with him."

Dave sighed. "Paul, don't –"

"You'll lose him," Paul interrupted, voice more forceful than before. "We Karofskys, we're a hateful bunch. We get angry, and we stay angry, sometimes for years."

"I could never stay angry at Kurt for years."

"I did," Paul said. "I convinced myself that I hated you after you left, that I hated your mother, and I held onto that anger for a very long time." He sighed. "Your mother left me once she found out I had cancer, and I can't really blame her, can I? I made her miserable for the last five years; why should she stay with me? There's no happiness with me. Don't do that to Kurt over something so small."

"_Small_?"

"Yes, small," Paul said, chastising him for the first time in a very long time. "Kurt loves you, David, implicitly. Don't take it for granted." Dinner finished, Dave got up and grabbed their plates. He turned and practically tossed them in the sink. Once again he heard that papery, humorless laugh. "There's that anger again."

"Shut up!"

"Get mad at me, David," Paul encouraged. "Let that anger for Kurt go and get mad at me, understand?"

"I am mad at you!" He whirled around, hands clenched into fists. "I am so fucking mad at you, Paul! I don't even want your fucking name, you understand? I cannot wait to be Mr. David Hummel. I cannot wait to _never_ have to think of you again."

"Tell me why, son. Don't sugar coat it."

"I wanted to be normal for you," Dave spat. "I tried so hard to be normal, and all I could think about was killing myself or killing Kurt Hummel because god damn it all he made me _think_ about him so much." He cringed. "I hated who I was then; I was the fucking boogeyman. And when I finally decided I couldn't hold it in anymore, when I finally told you who I was, you threw me away like I didn't matter." He was sobbing – probably had been for a good long while – and hadn't realized it. His nails dug into his palms, and he could tell they'd pierced his skin. He could feel the sting. "I was going to kill myself that night. I went to the school to say goodbye to the fucked up 'ideal' image of myself that I'd created, and then I was going to find a nice, high bridge to jump off of." He looked at Paul, really looked at him; there were tears streaking down his face. "But then something went off in my brain, and I texted Kurt instead. My whole life changed." He choked back the scream that suddenly rose in his throat – he hadn't wanted to say all of that, not when Kurt didn't even know. "You know I told him I wasn't suicidal?" Dave asked, not expecting an answer. "I told him I had no intention on offing myself, but that was my plan exactly. And he offered me a place to stay; he offered me a family."

"There's nothing I can do to make what happened okay," Paul said after a long silence. "There's nothing I can do to get across how sorry I am and how much I love you, no matter what. You're my son, and you've picked yourself a fine man and made yourself a great life without me. I'm proud of you, David."

"I don't need to hear that from you." Though, he kind of did. A heaviness that had seemingly always been on his heart was suddenly a lot less heavy. Not gone, per say, but the load was lighter for sure.

"But I needed to say it." He sighed. "I'm tired; I need to go lay down. Is that okay?"

Dave stared at Paul, who looked so weak and different from the burly manly man he used to be. It struck Dave then that this man was actually dying, and he'd spent the better part of an hour screaming at him. Guilt flared in his chest. "Sure. I need to call Kurt anyway."

"To apologize?"

Dave sighed. "Maybe. I don't know yet."

"Don't hold on to trivial anger, David. You don't know what it can do to you." And then, Paul turned and shuffled from the room. Dave heard the guest room door close, and he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He'd survived a conversation with his father – even if a lot of it had been him yelling. He wanted to tell Kurt more than anything, to hear that Kurt was proud of him. And more than anything, he wanted a kiss. He was still mad though; he could almost imagine it like a parasite, churning his thoughts up and making him confused. He sighed and reached for his phone.

Kurt's POV

Kurt and Rachel were just getting back from dinner when his cell phone rang. "It's David," Kurt said when Rachel glanced at him. He rolled his eyes when she frowned. "I'll just take this to my room." He pressed the accept button on his phone. "David?"

He heard his fiancé sigh. "Hi." His voice sounded raw, overwrought. "Am I bugging you?"

"No," Kurt assured. "Rachel and I just got back from dinner." He slid into Rachel and Finn's guest room and shut the door; he turned the lock as an afterthought because he really didn't want Rachel coming in the pretense of checking on him. "How are you?"

"I don't know." David sighed heavily. "I feel drained."

"You talked to Paul."

"I _shouted_ at Paul," David corrected. "I said so many awful things, love."

"You had to speak your mind, sweetheart," Kurt said soothingly. "He had a right to hear the whole truth from you."

"Am I terrible person?"

"No! David, you're the most amazing, loving man I know."

Kurt heard David's breath stutter and knew he was crying. "I don't want you to leave me, Kurt."

"I'm not going to."

"But you will," David insisted. "Paul said that we Karofskys hold onto our anger and that it drives loved ones away. I don't want to drive you away."

Kurt almost laughed but didn't – it wouldn't help this situation in the slightest. "Sweetheart, I've been with you for five years. I know what you're like when you get mad, and yeah, sometimes – like now – it's a little hard to deal with, but I'm not going anywhere. I love you for everything that you are."

David cried harder. "I've been such an idiot," he murmured miserably. "I am so sorry I've been taking this all out on you."

Kurt smiled; his heart thumped in a way that it only did for David. "It's okay."

"Come home?"

"You sure I'm safe there?"

There was a pause, a hesitation. "I _want_ to say yes, more than anything."

"But?"

"But I know my temper, and during Paul's visit, I'm likely to be an ass."

Kurt lay back on the guest bed and closed his eyes. He could almost picture David lying on their bed in similar fashion. "I think maybe I'll stay here tonight," he said. "I'll come by tomorrow, and we'll see."

"Thank you, love."

"I miss you though."

"I miss you too." David sighed into his ear. "I can't believe I've been such an ass that I haven't had you since the night you came home. Haven't held you and kissed you and told you how much I _ached_ while you were gone."

Kurt felt a tingle rush down his spine. "David –"

"I've wanted to tell you that I gave my first interview, all by myself," he said with a laugh, and it was David's real, honest laugh. The laugh Kurt loved so much. "My coach nearly shit a brick, but our publicist thought I'd done remarkably well for something that could have gone so horribly wrong. I've wanted to tell you that Finn is freaking out about Rachel not wanting to marry him, that he's thinking about ending it because he's so scared it'll never happen. I've wanted to tell you that I cannot wait to be your husband, and I think we need to take care of that sooner rather than later."

Kurt was almost in tears, he was so happy. This was the David he'd missed while he was in Lima; this was the David that he needed so badly. "What else?"

"I've just _wanted_ you."

He felt that tingle again, and he began to rub his own chest, slowly, almost teasingly. "You had me when I got back," he reminded teasingly.

David practically purred in his ear. "That was amazing, but I had such plans for us for this week."

"Were we naked in most of them?"

"In all of them," David said with a laugh. "I was gonna have you in every room, you know, in every possible way. A re-christening, as it were." Kurt couldn't help but slide his hand down to cup the growing bulge in his jeans. He must have let out the tiniest of moans because he heard David gasp. "Are you touching yourself?"

Kurt gripped himself a little tighter. "Maybe," he panted. "Fighting kind of makes me horny."

David laughed. "I'm pretty sure everything makes you horny."

"It's your fault," Kurt accused lightly, moaning as he stroked himself gently. "Talk to me, David," he said, "please."

"It'd be better if I could touch you."

Kurt grunted. "I can't come home tonight," he said. "Even if I want you to fuck me senseless, we're still fighting. You're still mad at me."

David groaned helplessly. "I know. I'm sorry." He moaned. "Did you say you wanted me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yeah."

"Let me come there," he suggested breathlessly. "Just for a little while."

Kurt thought about it and knew it wasn't a good idea. Finn and Rachel were likely to beat the tar out of David. But, being rock hard and desperate for his touch, Kurt couldn't bring himself to care overly much. "Be here in an hour," he said. "I'll figure something out."

"Thank you, Kurt," David murmured. "Thank you."

"Thank me with orgasms," Kurt practically growled back. "And plan to grovel, just a little."

"Done and done, love. Be there soon."


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry, guys! This isn't an actual chapter update, and I _know_ it's been forever! But! I have news! I am moving sites to Archive of Our Own, and I shall be going by the name ImNotOkayYet. I'll be taking down the stories on this site, moving them, and I will begin updating again. Now that its summer, and I'm done with school, I expect to be updating way more often. I hope you all will stick with me through this move, and I'm sorry for getting your hopes up for a new chapter. It is coming, I swear! I haven't given up on my boys, and I will see their story through, I promise. Hope to see you on Archive of Our Own!


End file.
